Unintended Consequences
by Stargazing BasketCase
Summary: Just because the Sheriff’s plots failed, and just because Marian’s marriage never quite made it past the altar doesn’t mean danger is past. As they're all about to find out.
1. Prologue: Night

Title: **Unintended Consequences**

Rating: T

Summary: Just because the Sheriff's plots failed, and just because Marion's marriage never quite made it past the altar doesn't mean danger is past. As they are _all_ about to find out.

First Robin Hood fic, so be nice if characterisations and stuff are way off. Got _no _idea how long this is gonna be, so bear with me. Oh, and it's Robin/Marion by the way, and post _'A Clue: No'_ (I loved that episode… I was _so_ happy when Marion punched Gisborne!).

So yeah. R&R is much appreciated, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_Prologue - Night_

The fire crackled contentedly in the middle of the clearing, bone-dry wood splitting and spitting in the heat of the controlled inferno. Moonlight shone gently down from above, filtering through the trees to light the peaceful scene. A brace of skinned rabbits hung across the flickering flames, slowly cooking (or burning, depending on your point of view) as the spit was rotated.

Allan rolled his eyes as Much tended to his cooking. "C'mon, you can't call 'em _that_," he protested, in a new attack for a continuing argument.

Much barely spared him a glance, remaining intent on his… masterpiece. "Call them what? Rabbits? Why not?" His gaze flickered back over his shoulder to the ever-doubtful Dale and a tongue of flame licked his exposed forearm snidely. He cursed, flinched, and proceeded to ignore Allan once more.

"Yeah," Allan shot back, ignoring Much's painful battle with the fire. "They're not _rabbits_. They're _conies_. A brace of conies."

Much's forehead was furrowed. He didn't respond.

Will Scarlett, watching the debate from the sidelines, chipped in with the sensible question. "Does it really matter?"

"Yeah!" Allan replied indignantly. "Of course it matters!"

"Why?" Will probed, a rare smile toying his lips.

"Because…" Dale floundered for an answer.

"Because you generally refuse to give in to Much about _anything_?" Will offered.

Allan glared at him. Much merely got on with his cooking, blithely unaware, or just uncaring, of the banter around his ears.

Little John, next to Will, poked the rabbit-spit with one finger. "How much longer?" he asked gruffly. "We're all gettin' hungry."

Much swatted the bigger man's hand away from the food with a panicked air, similar to that of a flustered mother fending her children off. "It'll be ready when it's ready!" he exclaimed, shooing John away.

Allan snickered.

"Surely it must be nearly ready?" Djaq interjected. "The rabbits—"

"Conies."

"—must be cooked by now?" she completed, shooting Allan a glare for his interruption.

"Yeah, I think she's right. They are going a bit black," Will observed.

Much, already flustered, yelped and pulled the spit out of the fire. Scarlett was right – there were traces of blackness around the meat. Much sobbed, just the once. "You all _distracted_ me!" he moaned.

John clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he commiserated. "No one really expects your cooking to be all that good anyway." He proceeded to pull the spit out of Much's stunned hands, remove the slightly singed rabbits and divide them up.

Much opened and closed his mouth several times, shocked. Then he just shrugged and accepted the food when John handed it to him.

They were left with two pieces at the end. Allan tried to snatch one, but Djaq slapped his hand back. "They are for Robin and Marian," she cautioned.

"So no touch." John stared hard at Allan until the other man folded beneath his scrutiny and nodded. The big man retrieved the spit and gently replaced the two pieces in the softly-glowing embers to keep the meat heated.

Will glanced in the direction they'd last seen the two remaining members of their gang go. "How long d'you think they'll be?" he asked.

Much didn't even look up. "A _long _time," he replied around a mouthful of rabbit.

Allan smiled wistfully. "Robin's a lucky bugger."

---------

Marion's head rested against his chest as they sat in peaceful silence at the base of a towering oak. His arms were around her, holding her firmly in place, nestled between his bent legs. She couldn't have escaped even if she had wanted to – he wasn't letting her go any time soon.

And she liked that – feeling wanted. She liked it a _lot_.

A smile flitted to her lips as she heard him sigh contentedly, right next to her ear. The outrush of warm breath so close to her skin sent shivers down her spine, and she snuggled closer. She felt him smile against her neck, lips curving gently upwards in the roguish smirk she could picture so easily in her mind.

She leaned her head back, onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. No words were needed as their eyes met and he leaned in to kiss her.

Then the familiar thrum of an arrow in flight cut through the calm of the night, and Robin screamed.

---------


	2. Chapter 1: Sleep

Heh, okay, forgot the disclaimer. Here ya go: 

Robin Hood, and all stuff associated with it, are the property of the BBC. I just play, and put them back where I found them when I'm finished.

And this is annoying me now. Whatever I write in dialogue for the characters, it sounds wrong! Argh! So, again, I apologise if everyone's really OOC. Meh.

Anyway. R&R is much loved, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_Chapter 1 - Sleep_

Pain shot through him; sudden and agonizing.

Marian's face abruptly vanished and he jerked backwards, his head making sharp contact with the tree behind him with a solid _thud_. His hand flew to his thigh, unconsciously seeking the source of the incapacitating pain, and made contact with a horribly familiar wetness.

"Robin? Robin?" He felt her hands on either side of his face, holding his head still. "Robin!"

He dragged his eyes open, just in time to witness another arrow whip overhead and thunk into the wood barely a foot above his head. Any conscious thought was scrambled, but he still had the presence of mind to pull Marian down, just as another impacted where her head had been mere seconds before.

With a groan he forced the pain to the back of his mind. "We need to move," he hissed through clenched teeth. She nodded, worry in her blue eyes. Nothing more was needed to be said; she helped him to his feet and they limped away, hidden in darkness, as deadly arrows cut the night around them.

---------

The relaxed atmosphere of the camp was shattered the instant John looked up from the remnants of rabbit au burnt bits, and saw two hunched figures, silhouetted against the trees. The big man was instantly on his feet and running towards them.

"What _happened?_" Much asked, horrified, on his feet the second the pair entered the warming glow of the fire.

John waved Marian away from Robin and took the other man's weight onto himself. She turned to Much, barely contained worry on her finely-crafted features. "Robin was shot," she replied tersely.

"Yeah, got that, thanks," Allan murmured, staring fixedly at the broken arrow embedded deeply in their leader's thigh.

"Look," Robin stated, his voice tight, "can we save the questions for later?" John eased him down to the ground and he hissed with pain. "Allan, Will, Much," he bit off, "keep watch. _Carefully. _Whoever shot me is still out there." Another spasm of pain ripped across his features and his eyes screwed shut.

"Go!" John hissed to the aforementioned three, and they scattered, grabbing weapons and slipping into the darkness, not without many _many _worried glances back at Robin. The big man relinquished Robin to Marian and Djaq and moved off to join the others, watching in the shadows.

Marian crouched down beside Robin, interlacing her fingers with his. "Djaq?!" she called, half panicked.

The Saracen woman joined Marian beside Robin. She glanced up at him. "The arrow must come out before the wound can be cleansed," she said softly.

"I know."

The unspoken _"It will hurt" _hung in the air.

"Get it over with," Robin bit off.

---------

Vaizey, Sheriff of Nottingham, was still awake. It was past midnight, _well _past midnight, but he still found himself here, padding the corridors of the castle like a night time thief. Anxiety roiled in his belly – an odd occurrence for the middle of a calm night.

But, then again, he had his reasons.

A theatrical swish of black fabric announced the arrival of his elusive acquaintance – hidden, as always in the darkest of shadows. The Sheriff smiled; a viper's seductive smile to the sweetly naïve mouse. "Ah, you return," he greeted softly.

The mask over the figure's face didn't move as the shadow-man spoke. "It is done."

Vaizey's face lit up with undisguised glee. "You got him?"

The figure nodded. "In the leg – as you advised."

The Sheriff jumped with excitement. "Yes!" he hissed – loud in the still air. He squinted at the shadows, barely able to make out his masked assassin. "How long before he is dead?" he questioned.

A shrug. "A two days, maybe three. If he is strong. If not, less."

Vaizey grinned, flashing yellowing teeth in the dim candlelight. "Well, yes," he said. "Thank you for your services, etc., etc…"

"Sheriff." A glove hand was held out. "My fee."

Fake surprise was written across the Sheriff's face. "Your _fee_? What fee?"

The figure didn't move. Hand extended. Waiting.

"Oh, _that _fee!" Vaizey dug in the pockets of his night robe and produced a leather bag. He reluctantly tossed it to the shadow-man and smiled disconcertingly. "Fifty pounds, there in cash."

The bag disappeared. "You promised a hundred."

Vaizey bobbed on his feet. "The _other _fifty when he is dead."

A pause. And then a slow nod. "Very well."

And then the shadow-man was gone.

The Sheriff peered around in the shadows. "Nice doing business with you!" he called. There was no reply, and he wrinkled his nose.

He began to make his almost-silent way back to his rooms in the castle. "Must tell Gisborne this of this," he muttered to himself. "He might like it… But just where _is _Gisborne?" He glanced around, remembered it was the middle of the night, and shrugged. "Probably snug in bed," he derided. "Dreaming of his lovely little Marian – now never to be his. How _heartbreaking_…"

Vaizey reached his rooms and stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Sensible girl," he murmured, before slipping into bed.

---------

With careful precision, Djaq pulled the thread tight over the ragged hole in Robin's flesh and quickly knotted it off. "It is done," she said softly.

With Marian's careful help, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He glanced down at the neat stitches in his leg and let out a long breath. "Are you alright?" Marian asked, her hand still gripping his.

Robin didn't reply. He'd caught sight of his trousers, and the ragged tear in one leg. He pulled a face. "I liked those," he complained.

Marian smiled and relaxed, her gaze never leaving his face.

Djaq merely rolled her eyes. "They can be mended," she pointed out bluntly. "You have torn them worse before."

He shrugged, and winced. "True."

"Robin!" Much's delighted voice rang out over the camp. "You're okay!" He came jogging in; bow in hand, a joyous grin on his features.

"Of course I'm okay," Robin answered, smiling. "It was just an _arrow_. I'm fine." He regarded Much for a second, winced briefly, and then added. "Shouldn't you be on watch?"

"Oh, whoever shot you'll be long gone," Much reasoned. "Why would they stick around?"

"He has a point," Djaq commented.

Robin narrowed his eyes at Much. "You may be right," he finally admitted. "Go get the others back here."

Much nodded, still smiling, and jogged back into the darkness. He was back, the other three in tow, within minutes. Robin looked up.

"Are you okay?" three voices asked in tandem.

Robin exchanged an amused glance with Marian. "Aside from just having been shot, I'm fine," he placated. "Now sit!"

They sat.

"Did any of you see anything out there?" Robin asked, one hand still hovering near his wound. Djaq swatted his hand away, and he grimaced. "Any_one_?"

"No," John answered for all of them. "Whoever it was, long gone by now."

"Maybe this should wait 'til morning," Will interjected, watching as Robin winced, yet again. "You should probably rest."

"Who made you a doctor?" Allan chipped in.

"Will is right," Djaq added. "Sleep would be best."

"I agree," Much spoke up. "You push yourself too hard—"

"And you always have," Marian completed, a smile toying at her lips.

Robin flung his hands up in the face of their united front. "Fine!"

---------

He still had to be cajoled into bed, despite agreeing. He was like that – always arguing. But, eventually, he lay there peacefully, eyes closed, asleep. The rest of the boys followed him soon after, sprawled around the dying embers of the fire. Two pieces of meat still rested in the embers, forgotten, even by Much.

But Djaq and Marian? They couldn't sleep, and it wasn't for lack of trying.

Marian sat beside Robin's head, her fingers gently stroking through his hair. She glanced up, her fingers stilling, as Djaq approached. "How is he?" the Saracen woman asked softly.

Robin stirred roughly, a frown creasing his forehead, as if in answer to her question. His lips parted and he seemed to be about to say something, but he stilled. Marian glanced up at Djaq. "He is restless."

Djaq nodded and knelt down. "You can tell, can't you?" she said quietly, a whisper in the moonlight. "There is something more."

Marian closed her eyes briefly. "Yes," she admitted. "He has been shot before, but this time…" She shook her head, eyes full of worry. "It hurts him more. I can tell. I do not know why, but something is different."

Both their attentions shifted abruptly to Robin as he arched up, off the leaf-litter, and moaned in obvious pain. Fear flashed in Marian's eyes; she brushed hair off his forehead and softly shushed him. One last groan, almost a whimper, slipped free from his lips and he subsided. Marian gently brushed her fingers against his: his fingers closed around hers instinctively.

"He dreams often," Djaq murmured. "Bad dreams."

Marian nodded. "The Holy Land. He tells me nothing of it, but…"

"But you can tell." Djaq watched her keenly.

"It is because he refuses to speak of it." She stroked his forehead with her free hand – it calmed him. "He always hides what hurts him the most." A shadow crossed her features. "And now…"

"There is something wrong," Djaq completed. "Something that he does not tell us." She reached out and lightly touched Robin's wound – oddly enough, he didn't seem to notice, even in sleep. "Something that…"

They both knew what she was about to say.

Neither of them was willing to say it.

---------


	3. Chapter 2: Worry

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

Hey there! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **pixiespryte**, **Waffler**, **clarex**, **RixxiSpooks **and **The viEns of hIStorY**! You made me smile muchly!

And I think updates will be further apart now, 'cause school has started, so that means lots of schoolwork, getting up at 6am and getting home at 5pm, and generally not a lot of time. Meh.

Anyway. R&R is much appreciated, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_Chapter 2 - Worry_

Robin's leg was agony every time he put weight on it, which was annoying. He had to resort to a kind of shuffle-limp around the camp, which earned him a snicker from Allan.

He sat down roughly beside the rest of his men and sighed, resting his head in his hands, just for a second. For some reason, his head was pounding; a heavy throbbing behind his temples. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing the pain to the back of his mind. There were other things to concentrate on right now.

A hand lightly touched his knee and he jerked up. Marian was watching him, concerned. "Are you alright?" she murmured, worry in her gaze.

He forced a smile and took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "Don't worry," he replied, just as soft. "I am fine."

She wasn't convinced, but she wasn't given a chance to protest.

"It has to have been the Sheriff," Much interrupted, his gaze riveted to Robin's bandaged thigh.

"Yeah," Allan agreed. "I mean, who else wants to kill you?" No one was particularly sure if he was joking or not.

"I suppose so," Robin said absently. He was finding it hard to concentrate – his head was _throbbing. _

"You're not okay, Robin," Marian said softly beside him. "What is it? Tell me."

"I'm _fine,_" he bit off, a bit sharper than he intended and refocused on the others.

"Hang on," Will was saying, frowning. "If it was the Sheriff, right, he'd've had to send someone?"

"And?" John asked.

Fear danced in Will's eyes, just for a second. "How'd he know _where _to send them?"

There was silence.

"He knows where we are." Much.

"We have to move!" Robin. "Now!"

And they flurried to obey.

---------

"Sleep well, Gisborne?" The Sheriff barely looked up as Sir Guy entered his study; it was hardly worth his notice.

"Well enough, my lord."

"Good." Vaizey looked up and smiled wickedly. He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "A… mutual friend was taken care of last night," he informed Guy. "I trust you know who I refer to?"

A smile twitched Gisborne's lips. "I do."

"Yes, well." The Sheriff leaned back. "With any luck, he'll be out of our hair _very_ soon."

That same smile took a firm hold of Guy's features. "Very good, my lord."

Once again, Vaizey looked up. He sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically. "Yes, yes, your beloved Marian."

"She will have no place to go when he is gone," Gisborne replied, even though the Sheriff hadn't actually asked a question. "So, maybe—"

"Yes, yes, yes, you'll get a second chance, finally get past the altar, live together for ever and ever, blah-di-blah-di-_blah._" Vaizey seemed to be on the brink of waving his hands in the air for some reason, but stopped. "Yes, I think the whole _castle _knows about your designs on dear _Marian _by now."

Gisborne was unmoved. "If you say so, my lord."

"I do," the Sheriff snapped back. He paused. "Oh no, that's what you want _her _to say. I forgot."

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh, shush!" Vaizey sighed. "Go play with your sword."

Gisborne, with only the _faintest _hint of a smile on his lips, left the chamber.

---------

It helped to be able to pack up and move out in an instant, they'd discovered through past experience. And, as the outlaws that they were, they had quite a lot of experience. So, logically, they should be pretty proficient at it by now.

And, sticking to that logic, they were. They were up and out of their camp, their (admittedly meagre) possessions in tow, this side of half an hour. Remarkably swift, even for them – they never were the most organised bunch.

But still.

Not a trace of their habitation was left in the now-deserted clearing, aside from the faintest hint of the ashes of a burned-out cooking fire, and a few scattered speckles of deep crimson blood, here and there on the surface of the fallen leaves.

They reached the forest road with ease. Well, ease. Robin had had to be forcibly persuaded to ride one the horses. Djaq had explained that, while riding wasn't exactly _good _for his leg, walking a fair distance would be worse – considerably so. She had gone on to point out that if the horse wasn't an option, then John would just have to carry Robin.

And John had flexed his biceps, an intimidating gleam in his dark eyes.

Robin had got on the horse.

Allan had snickered.

And _then _Djaq had insisted that Robin ride side-saddle – she didn't want him to tear the stitches. He'd complained about the arrangement the whole journey – something about feeling like a "damsel in distress". _This _time, Allan had been unable to conceal his glee and had guffawed. Loudly.

But anyway. They'd reached the road.

Robin slid down off his horse and limped his way over to Marian. Neither of them noticed it, but the others had subconsciously congregated a little way off, giving them space: the illusion of privacy.

She smiled at him, just a little. "I have to go," she explained softly.

He nodded, eyes never leaving her features. "I know."

She glanced towards his wounded leg, and then back up to his face. "Will you—"

"I'll be _fine_," he interrupted softly, completely ignoring the fact that his head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. A _large _sledgehammer. He just neglected to mention it – it wasn't lying. Just… not telling the whole truth, he figured.

"Try to do what Djaq tells you," she instructed. He began to roll his eyes, but she spoke again, even softer. "Please."

_For me. _The last wasn't spoken, but the plea was there. Silent; in the air.

He smiled an empty smile, just for a second. "I will." And this time, he meant what he said completely.

Neither of them was completely sure who instigated it, but all of a sudden they were in each others arms, holding tight. "Be safe," Marian whispered, close to his ear. "Please." She dropped her façade of strength, just for this instant. Once in a while, it was right to be vulnerable.

For him, it was worth it.

"I will," he murmured fiercely back. "I promise."

"If _anything _else happens…"

"I will find you," he replied, lowly, clearly, tightly. "Marian…" He tightened his grip on her, just a fraction. "_Trust me._"

And she did.

He pulled back and gently cupped her face between his hands, fingertips brushing her temples. "I promise you," he stated, "everything will be alright." And, as if to affirm his pledge, he kissed her, gently, softly. Lovingly.

"Robin…" She wanted to believe, _desperately. _But she couldn't quite bring herself to. There was still that nagging doubt – the feeling that something was terribly wrong, and that he wasn't telling them about it.

He smiled. "Meet me here, in two days time." He searched her features. "I will be _fine, _you will see." There was a time, not so long ago, that he would have brushed her concern off as an elephant would a fly, but now… Now he realised that she was precious, and that she could be all-to-easily lost. And he would not lose her again.

She finally smiled fully, reassured, as if she'd seen his dedication to her, his _love_, in his eyes. "I will hold you to that," she replied, and he smiled.

Robin released her and stepped back. "I know you will." That roguish smile, the one he knew she loved, was back in place.

Her gaze never leaving him, she swung up onto her white mare. He was struck with a sudden feeling of _déjà vu_, and she knew she felt it to. She smiled. "I am going this way." Her hand pointed down the path.

"And I am going this way." He indicated the opposite direction.

"Always different directions."

He grinned, stepped up to her horse and gently pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Not always."

Marian nudged her mare into movement and set off along the path. She glanced once over her shoulder at him, and smiled.

Robin watched her go, and his grin refused to shift.

---------

"And here we are!" Much declared, arms outflung. "Home!"

"For the next few weeks, at least," Allan added, dumping the bag he carried down on the mossy ground. "Until we annoy somebody else."

Much considered that, and nodded in agreement.

"I'm not being funny, but if we keep going further into Sherwood, we're gonna run out of forest," Allan complained. "What'll we do then?"

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," John replied.

Much frowned. "Isn't it 'cross that bridge when we come to it'?" he questioned.

John looked up with a wide, insincere grin. "Sure, why not?" he said cheerfully – _too _cheerfully. "Now, are you gonna help set up camp, or stand there jabbering all day?"

Much pulled a face, but began to help.

Robin, once more forced to ride side-saddle, slipped down off his horse. He hit the ground a bit harder than he expected, and staggered.

He was suddenly dizzy and vaguely nauseous. And, of course, the headache was still there. The world swam around him for a split second, and he caught hold of the horse to keep himself upright. A soft groan escaped his lips and he blinked sharply as the forest righted itself.

"Robin?" Djaq appeared beside him and frowned at him. "Are you alright?"

He straightened up quickly, a bit _too _quickly, and nearly staggered again. "Yeah, sure," he replied hastily. "I'm fine."

Djaq regarded his dubiously, then leaned in and said, "I do not believe you."

He smiled tightly as his stomach churned. "I know."

---------

Knighton Hall was buzzing.

Marian rode in slowly, frowning slightly. There was no special occasion today, no festivities planned. She dismounted her horse in the courtyard and the animal was quickly whisked away.

Her frown deepened as she made her way towards the house. The atmosphere was tense, thick with worry and fear. And she didn't miss the sympathetic glances cast in her direction either.

Her heart began to pound. Something was wrong.

The house door opened easily at her push, and she stepped inside. "Hello?" she called. "Father?"

There was sudden patter of footsteps on the stairs, and the maid appeared. Beth was wide-eyed and shaking. "Lady Marian," she greeted in a whisper. A _massive _difference from the bouncy girl Marian knew.

"What's wrong?" Marian questioned, her palms sweaty. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Beth stared at her for a second, as if unsure of how to answer. "It's your father," she whispered.

---------


	4. Chapter 3: Sickness

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

I dunno if all the 'medical' details are right. I'm not a doctor, but I hope they're vaguely realistic… Ah well.

And I want to say a _massive _thank you to everyone who reviewed! I never expected people would like this as much as they have! So, thank are due to: **Lucy**, **pixiespryte**, **Kessia Rose**, **clarex**, **Starzangel**, **RixxiSpooks**, **robin and marion forever**, **Iris Shadow**, **Kates Master**, **The viEns of hIStorY **and **Lauren**. In order. :D

And to all those of you who read but don't review, I hope you liked it!

R&R is blessed to the Muse, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_3 - Sickness_

"Robin!" Djaq followed him doggedly as he stormed across the rough-and-ready campsite. "You _must_ rest!"

"I'm fine!" he half-yelled. "Why can't you _get _that?!" He thought better of the impassioned semi-shout a second later as pain jolted though his skull. He winced and grabbed his head.

"Master?" Much rose to his feet, concerned. "What is it?"

"He is hurt." Djaq beat Robin to it. "More than he is telling us."

"Djaq, I'm _fine_!"

"You got off your horse and you nearly collapsed." Much started at Djaq's words, stared at her, and then at Robin, eyes wide. "You are _not _fine."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with me!" Robin exclaimed. "This is silly!" He took an almost-aggressive step forward, fists clenched.

Which turned out to be a bad move.

His stomach abruptly rebelled and _heaved_. Violently. Instinct kicked in and he spun round, sharply collapsing to his hands and knees as he threw up. Instantly Much was by his side and the others weren't far behind.

Robin's shoulders shook as Much helped him back to his feet. The headache had intensified and the world was spinning once more.

Djaq stood before him, hands on hips. "You are _not _fine."

He managed a weak smile. "You might be right."

---------

"Ah, Gisborne, hello." The Sheriff was uncharacteristically… Gisborne thought the word was 'chirpy'. Which was _not _a word he'd usually associate with Vaizey, Sheriff of Nottingham.

"My lord." He nodded respectfully, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I think…" Vaizey leaned forward, leaning his hands on his desk. "I think we should pay a visit to Knighton Hall."

"Knighton Hall?" Gisborne questioned as he fought to keep a triumphant grin from his lips.

"Yes you idiot, Knighton Hall." Ah. Evidently _not _as chirpy as he seemed. "I want to see how dear Edward is doing. I think we should, don't you?" A smirk; almost evil.

Gisborne nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"It's only _fair _after all," Vaizey continued, speaking right over Guy, as if the other was not even there. "You know, seeing as we were the ones who arranged for his…" The Sheriff smirked. "I think the phrase is 'untimely demise'."

---------

She barely waited for Beth to finish speaking before racing up the stairs. She knew even before she flung open the door to her father's bedchamber that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

The door slammed back against the wall, and Marian stood in the doorway, frozen with shock.

_This is _not _happening. _

His face was pale. Deathly pale, and she could see a line of tiny, glimmering beads of sweat across his forehead. He lay beneath the coverings, despite the warmth in the air, still as a corpse. And, to be honest, he looked like one, too.

Marian's eyes abruptly filled with tears.

_This cannot be happening. _

Everything was supposed to be good! Gisborne was gone, she was with Robin, things were _happy. _Things were _good. _Fantastic, in fact. But now…

_This cannot be happening. _

First Robin, and now her father. She loved them both. Both hurt – both… No. She would _not _say it!

_Oh Lord, this _cannot _be happening! _

With remarkable calm she knelt beside her father's bed. She couldn't let herself cry; not yet. Not now. Later, when everything was alright. When she had somehow fixed everything. But her fingers still shook as she took his limp hand in hers. She let out one long, shuddering breath, forcing the tears the sparkled in her ice-blue eyes not to fall.

"What happened?" she asked tightly, tensely. The only sound in a room heavy with pre-emptive mourning. "What happened to him?"

Beth still hovered in the doorway, her brown eyes wide and sorrowful. "He was walking in Knighton," she answered softly. "There was a man – at least, people _think _he was a man. Completely in black. Masked, in the shadows. He…" Beth's voice faltered.

"He what?"

"He shot him, my lady," Beth whispered. "In the leg."

Marian glanced over her shoulder at the other woman, her forehead furrowed. "Surely a mere arrow was not enough to—" Her voice caught, and she swallowed. "To hurt him like this?"

"He said he was fine, but he became dizzy and sick and he was shaking and he—"

"Beth." Marian gently interrupted the maid's babbling. "What is it?"

She could see the tears in Beth's eyes. "It was poison," she whispered.

_A poison arrow._

And with that silent phrase, something deep inside Marian knew that there was no chance this would end with a 'happily ever after'.

_My father has been poisoned. My father has been poisoned. My father has been poisoned. _

She couldn't stop them. The words repeated inside her head. Over and over and over and over and over…

_My father has been poisoned. My father has been poisoned. My father has been poi—_

Marian stopped, horrified with sudden realisation.

_Poison arrow. _

_Poison. _

_Robin! _

---------

He was shaking. Violently. All over.

Djaq's concerned features swam into view before him. "He needs to rest," she stated firmly. "This is not good."

He was vaguely aware of big hands taking hold of him and steering him remarkably gently over to a makeshift bed – a couple of blankets strewn over dry, spongy moss. Those same big hands gently pressed him down – he suddenly found himself lying down.

Unfortunately, the sharp change in orientation jolted his already-unsteady stomach. He rolled onto his side and retched. A trickle of foul-smelling, foul-tasting greenish liquid dribbled from his lips to the ground – he'd lost the previous contents of his stomach last time.

"Robin. Come on, Robin."

A sharply accented voice, speaking to him. He rolled onto his back, assisted by those same big hands, and tried to focus. A name slipped into the forefront of his mind.

"Djaq," he managed to croak out.

Her face appeared above him and cool fingers gently touched his forehead. "Robin?"

He tried to smile. "I think you're right."

She smiled, a just a little. "Rest, Robin."

And he did.

---------

"We need to do something!" Much exclaimed.

"Do what?" Djaq snapped back sharply. "There is nothing we _can _do."

Will, seated beside Robin's restlessly-resting form, one hand resting on his leader's shoulder, looked up. "Djaq," he asked softly, "what's wrong with him?"

Djaq closed her eyes briefly, painfully. "He has been poisoned," she replied lowly. "The arrow."

"Poison?" There was a hint of panic in Much's voice. "Is he…" He trailed off, and started again. "Will he be okay?"

Djaq closed her eyes again, and didn't answer. Her silence was all the answer they needed.

Will stood up. "We should fetch Marian," he said quietly. "I'll go."

"Me too," Allan said.

Djaq nodded. "We will look after Robin." She paused. "But be quick."

They understood.

_Be quick. He may not have much time. _

---------

Marian didn't move from her father's side.

She was torn. Her father, or her lover? She instinctively knew that whatever was… hurting _(won't say it, can't say it, won't say it…) _her father was the same thing that was hurting Robin. And she loved them both.

But Edward was her father, and she _would not_ leave him. She _could _not. Not now.

All of a sudden she heard raised voices downstairs. Beth's, she was sure of that, and two others. Two men. Two _very _familiar men.

_The Sheriff. And _Gisborne.

Marian felt a sudden flash of anger. She did _not_ like Gisborne.

She heard booted feet pounding up the stairs and rose to her feet as the door was slammed open. "Ah, Lady Marian," the Sheriff greeted with a false smile. He stepped into the room, Gisborne in his wake.

Marian ignored Gisborne.

"What do you want?" she snapped back, not in the mood for pleasantries.

The Sheriff affected a hurt expression. "We merely came to see how dear Eddie was doing."

Marian glanced back down at the ashen form of her stricken father, and her heart twisted. She barely managed to keep her voice steady. "He is not well, and should not be disturbed."

"He's what?"

Marian started. "He is… very sick."

"No!" Vaizey was smiling. "He is _not _'very sick'. He is _dying._ Come _on! _You know it, I know it, Gisborne knows it…"

Realisation dawned. "_You_ did it."

Vaizey applauded; slow, condescending handclaps. "Well done."

And she was angry. "You had my father shot! You had _Robin _shot!"

The Sheriff blinked. "Excuse me?" What bore a surprising resemblance to actual _surprise _floated across his features. "I had _Robin _shot? As in Robin Robin? Locksley?"

"Yes." That was all she could say; one word laced with anger and hate and grief and love.

Vaizey laughed shortly, disconcerted. "No, I had _Eddie _here shot. I didn't order Locksley shot; Gisborne, did I order Locksley shot?"

"No," Guy rumbled.

"Exactly." He considered it. "Although, if you're telling the truth…" His face lit up with almost-childish glee. "Locksley is injured!"

And now she was _furious. _"I don't care," she bit off sharply. "Just _fix _it!"

"And how do you want me to do that?"

"An antidote."

"A what?"

"_Antidote." _

The Sheriff smirked. "Ah, yes. An _antidote._" He pretended to consider her question. "Yes, there is one of those. Back in Nottingham, I do believe."

"Give it to him. _Now._"

Vaizey sighed. "Marian, Marian, Marian," he tutted. "Why would I cure your father if I was the one who had him murdered?"

"Murdered?" Fear. "He's not dead yet."

The Sheriff smiled and shifted his gaze to her father's still body.

Her father's _too _still body.

Marian gasped. _No! He's lying! He's _alive!

Vaizey leaned forward. "Think again," he whispered in her ear.

---------


	5. Chapter 4: Grief

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

And before the protests flood in, I didn't want to kill him! But the damn story wouldn't let him live! –cries– It's alive, I tell you! Alive!

Ahem. Ignore me. And, once more, my thanks to everyone who reviewed: **The viEns of hIStorY**, **RixxiSpooks**, **pixiespryte**, **Starzangel**, **Iris Shadow**, **clarex**, **Kessia Rose**, **robin and marion forever**, **Jade **and **domslove**! You're all fantastic!

R&R is much loved, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_4 - Grief_

Allan was in the lead as they pelted through Knighton at a gallop – not the most subtle of outlaw behaviour. But, then again; desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

Will was forced to rein his horse in sharply as Dale stopped with no warning, just outside Knighton Hall. Scarlett bit back an uncharacteristic curse and pulled his gelding up beside Allan, an-also unusual scathing insult hovering on his lips – he was tense, tired, angry and panicked. He had an excuse.

Said uncharacteristic insult died a quick death as Will saw the look on Allan's face – wariness, fear and utter loathing. He immediately switched from Will Scarlett, carpenter, to Will Scarlett, outlaw. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Allan ushered him back, the sound of the horses' hooves muffled by the soft earth. Will caught a brief glimpse of guards and a coach. "Gisborne," Dale hissed, "and the _Sheriff." _

Robin's ashen features flashed through Will's mind, and his fingers clenched. He saw red, just for a brief moment. But all he said was, "We need to get in there."

Allan nodded in terse, angered, agreement. "Yeah."

---------

_No… Please, no! This _cannot be happening!

She stumbled to her knees beside his bed, her hands trembling across the covers to his limp hand. Her fingertips pressed to his wrist, searching for the familiar pulse of blood beneath skin – some sign that the Sheriff was lying to her.

She found nothing.

_No! God,_ no!

She felt the Sheriff's hand on her shoulder, almost sympathetic, and she cringed away. "Oh well," he commiserated.

"Get out," she forced out. "Get out _now!_"

Vaizey rolled his eyes. "Temper, temper," he tutted. "You really should do something about that."

But he didn't linger in the bedchamber.

She didn't even look up. Her mind was reeling, spinning, wheeling. She was in shock. Terrified, agonized, grief-stricken shock.

A hand landed on her shoulder. She started, and her mind instinctively brought up Robin's face – she wanted him, here, beside her; to cry into his shoulder.

But she knew it wasn't him; that he was sick—_dying_—somewhere in the forest.

She looked up. Guy looked down at her, something strangely akin to actual care in his gaze. "If you need anything, just—"

"_Get out!_" she almost screamed up at him. "Get out _now!_"

Hurt flashed through his gaze, and he recoiled. "Marian—"

"_Leave." _

He left. The door slammed behind him.

Trembling, she turned back to her father's still—_lifeless_—body. Shaking fingers gently stroked his cheek as tears cascaded down her face. She couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't speak.

All she could do was stroke his cooling skin, and mouth four words over and over again.

_I love you, father. I love you, father. I love you, father. _

---------

Much jumped sharply as Robin's eyes flicked open. He frowned and leaned over. "Master?" he asked questioningly.

Robin groaned softly. "Much," he greeted weakly.

Much's features split into a grin – Robin hadn't been even vaguely lucid since Allan and Will had left. "Djaq! John!" he called.

Djaq appeared almost instantly beside him, John only seconds behind. "Robin!" she exclaimed, startled. "You're awake!"

"Seems like it," the injured outlaw murmured.

"How do you feel?" the Saracen asked, fingers seeking his wrist and gently pressing against the pulse-point.

Robin shifted on the ground. "Cold," he whispered, eyes half closed.

Much and John exchanged a worried glance. "Master, it's the middle of summer," Much said; the statement almost a question.

Robin didn't reply – just shivered.

Djaq's face closed up. "Fetch more blankets," she ordered.

"Djaq?" John asked.

Anger and grief flickered through her dark eyes. "He is getting worse," she managed.

"But he's awake," Much said, frowning. "Surely that means he's getting better?"

Djaq could only shake her head.

"How d'you know?"

She found her tongue and looked up at them. "He is cold," she whispered, eyes wide and fearful.

---------

"You think?" Allan questioned. "Through the _window?_"

Will shrugged. "We're not gonna get in any other way," he pointed out. "The Sheriff and Gisborne are gone, but we're still outlaws."

Allan had to acquiesce to that.

"And anyway," Will continued. "Robin's done it plenty of times." His voice cracked on Robin's name, just slightly.

"The window it is then."

---------

Will elbowed the shutters open and reached down to give Allan a hand up. Once Dale was balanced, Will hopped over the windowsill and landed softly in Knighton Hall.

"Marian?" Scarlett's voice was loud in the grief-ridden silence of the dim room. He squinted into the gloom, waiting impatiently for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside.

Allan joined him with a slightly louder thud, and suddenly Will could see clearly again.

"Oh God."

Allan's eyes were screwed up, trying to pierce the dimness, and he glanced at Will. "What is it?"

Will's mouth worked soundlessly for a minute. "Edward," he finally managed, his voice hoarse. "He's…"

"He's dead." Marian's voice was shaking – Will had never heard her like this before. "The Sheriff killed him," she continued in a whisper.

Allan was silent, and Will bowed his head in wordless respect to the dead.

---------

Gisborne's dejected frown was starting to annoy Vaizey. "What is it _now_?" he snapped.

Guy straightened up. "My lord?"

"Oh, come on Gisborne," the Sheriff groaned. "You've been acting like someone just killed your favourite _puppy_."

"It's Marian, my lord," Guy admitted gruffly.

"What, you _honestly _expected her to run into your arms the second her father was dead?" Vaizey asked, almost incredulous. "Come _on. _I thought you were smarter than that."

Gisborne straightened again, affronted.

"But then again," the Sheriff continued, ignoring Guy, "true lust and all that."

Guy forced a smile. "Yes, my lord."

"At least Eddie's dead," Vaizey mused, rapidly switching train of thought. "No more conspiracies to overthrow me from _him, _thank you very much." He thought. "And, if dear Marian was right, that nuisance Locksley may well be out of our hair very soon, hmm Gisborne?"

"Apparently so." Gisborne's lips wore a tiny smile, almost knowing.

The Sheriff ignored it, and continued to chatter.

---------

"Robin's hurt," Will said softly. Marian looked up to him, her face holding a thin veil of composure. "A lot."

She managed a brief smile. "I know. Poison."

"How'd you know that?" Allan asked.

"My father was killed the same way," Marian answered. She rose to her feet. "And the Sheriff has a cure."

"First, back to Robin," Will said quietly.

Marian nodded, and stepped out the door. Will and Allan trailed in Marian's wake as she paced evenly down the stairs. "Beth!" she called, and the servant girl immediately appeared. "Call a priest," she ordered softly.

Beth's eyes went wide. "Lady Marian?"

"My father is dead." Her voice didn't even shake, not any more. "Send for the priest and find someone to make arrangements for a funeral." He voice _did _crack now, on the word 'funeral'.

She didn't say anything else, simply opened the door and stepped into the bright sunlight. Allan and Will followed, leaving Beth inside, shocked and pale, tears gleaming in her wide eyes.

---------

Marian dropped to her knees on the blanketed earth beside Robin. His eyes were open and deliriously bright. She smiled faintly and gently took his hand. "You promised you would be alright," she murmured, almost teasingly.

He ignored the statement, and frowned at her. "Are you alright?" he asked in a whisper, shivering.

"I will be," she replied, a tender smile gracing her lips. "We are going to Nottingham. To save you."

"Marian—"

She cut him off, gently pressing her lips to his in a soft, loving kiss. She smile against his lips, and stroked his cheek. "Rest," she whispered. "We will return soon."

There was nothing he could say that would stop her, and he knew it. Besides, he didn't have the energy. "Be safe."

Marian rose to her feet, releasing his hand. She favoured him with one last smile, before making her way to where John, Will and Allan were stood with the horses.

Djaq was nearby. "He does not have long," she murmured, careful not to let Robin hear. "Be quick."

"We will be," John replied gruffly.

Nothing more was said.

They set off in a whirl of hoof-beats and tense expectation. No light banter filled the air. They were tense, angry.

Robin's life hung in the balance, and they all knew it.

---------


	6. Chapter 5: Goodbye

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter. 

Heh, heh. Evilness.

Thanks go to my lovely reviewers: **clare**,** Starzangel**,** robin and marion forever**,** The viEns of hIStorY**,** RixxiSpooks**,** pixiespryte**,** domslove**,** Iris Shadow**,** Kessia Rose**,** MontyPythonFan**,** moothril **and **A-Heart-Of-Gold**. I love you all!

R&R is a boon sent from above, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_5 - Goodbye_

Nottingham Castle reared up before them, dark and forbidding. The sun's last feeble rays scrabbled in vain at its impeachable walls, before sinking in forlorn defeat below the horizon.

Darkness reigned.

"Marian," John said quietly, his voice carrying in the still blackness. "Are you sure you want to do this? You will never again be able to return here in safety." He searched her features, looking for affirmation of her resolve.

She offered him an empty smile of reassurance. "I know," she answered softly, simply.

He held her steady gaze a moment longer and then averted his own. She knew what she was doing, the risks she was taking. The sacrifice she was making.

She understood.

"Let's go," he ordered swiftly, and they were away – wisps in the night.

---------

The fire crackled brightly in the centre of the clearing, chasing away the shadows, forcing them to snarl and snap just beyond the darkened tree-line. No trapped meat twisted lethargically in the heat and flames; no laughing companions gathered around the flames, teasing, joking and generally making a noisy nuisance of themselves.

The atmosphere was tense. Fearful.

Expectant.

Djaq and Much were never far from Robin's side. He was still conscious, but barely so. He didn't move; just lay there, shivering, on the moss. He didn't speak.

Well. Mostly.

"Much." Robin's voice was hoarse, raspy. "Much!"

"I'm here, master," Much shifted closer to Robin, bringing himself into the outlaw's field of vision. "What is it?"

Robin managed a faint, wan smile. "I'm sorry, Much," he whispered. "So sorry."

A frown flickered across Much's forehead. "Master? For what?"

"Everything." Robin's voice was cracking on every other syllable – not through overwrought emotion, though that was present too, through pure fatigue. He was _exhausted. _But his brown eyes were bright as he focused on Much, feverishly so. "Sorry for _everything._ For taking you to the Holy Land, for bringing you into the forest." His eyes sparkled – with delirium or tears, it was impossible to tell. "The things I've done, the things—"

"Master…"

"The things I've said," Robin completed. His gaze implored Much to listen, and listen he did. "I didn't mean it – any of it."

"I know." Much gently reached out, pressing Robin down into the moss. "Rest."

And Robin did, as exhaustion overtook him once more.

---------

The horse's hooves were loud in the still, warm night. Marian's hands were clammy on the reins – despite her bravado, she was nervous. This was her, casting aside her reputation, her _life_, and joining forces with a band of outlaws.

But, thing was, they weren't just any old band of outlaws. They were _Robin's _band of outlaws, and that made all the difference.

She came to a halt beside one of the two guards watching the gates to the castle. With almost unnatural calm, she smiled at him. "Good evening," she greeted softly. "I have business with the Sheriff in the castle."

He regarded her suspiciously. "At this hour?"

She nodded, smiling emptily. "Yes." The guard didn't look convinced – she tried again. "Who am I to question the Sheriff?"

He glanced across at his partner, who shrugged. The guard gave in. "Alright then," he allowed.

She smiled her thanks.

He moved to the thick gates and thumped three times on the wood. There was a creak and a groan, and they inched open. Marian's smile vanished, and she glanced back into the darkness.

Three shadows flew out of the night. Four men collapsed to the ground with four muffled thuds.

And then they were inside Nottingham Castle.

---------

Djaq folded her arms across her stomach and leaned back, still regarding the resting Robin. He wasn't dreaming – his state was more like fever-sleep; his lips spoke to the silent air, his head rolled from side to side.

"I am worried about him." Much's voice broke the still of the night like a bell. He offered her a canteen of water; she took it from him and drank. "He is not getting better, is he?"

She handed the liquid back, and shook her head slowly. Premature grief was scribed across her features. "I fear Marian may lose more than a father today," was her only reply.

Much closed his eyes, and Djaq turned away, pretending she didn't see the crystal tear that trickled down her companion's cheek.

They watched over their leader in grief-ridden silence. There was nothing else they could do.

---------

Vaizey was awoken rather rudely; after all, a dagger to the throat wasn't _exactly _the politest method of greeting. _Not again, _he moaned to himself. _Mortal danger is _so _last week. _

"Up," the big, burly one barked out. Seeing as this particular man-mountain was the one holding said rather pointy dagger to his throat, Vaizey got up. He didn't particularly fancy a life-threatening injury before breakfast, thank you very much.

No, he let _Hood _suffer those. Even if it hadn't been his fault this time.

"So, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked, plastering a smirk on his features. "Food? Drink? Maybe a little hanging in the morning?"

"We want the antidote," the dark-haired, axe-bearing one answered softly.

_Hmph. Not in a good mood, are we? _

The boy's fingers flexed dangerously around the handle of one such axe at his side as the Sheriff didn't answer. Vaizey eyed self-same axe with a healthy dose of trepidation. "Antidote?" he asked, affecting innocence.

"You shot Robin," the big man growled.

Vaizey rolled his eyes, his natural demeanour reasserting itself, despite his danger. "For the _last _time," he groaned. "I did not have Locksley shot! You've got the wrong man!"

Man-Mountain's dagger pricked just a _little _deeper, and Vaizey gasped.

"Although," he hastily amended, trying not to swallow. "Although, I do have _an _antidote. Your assassin _could _have used the poison that corresponds to that."

Axe-Boy and Man-Mountain exchanged a glance. Axe-Boy shrugged, and Man-Mountain nodded. "Where?" he demanded.

Vaizey clapped his hands together, trying not to move too much. "I thought you'd never ask."

Axe-Boy moved to the door. He stuck his head out, hissed something Vaizey didn't quite catch, and slipped back in again. He was followed by two others – another male outlaw, and a _very _familiar face indeed.

He whistled lowly. "My, my," he interjected. "Dear Marian. What _are _you doing here?"

Marian didn't rise to the bait. "He knows where it is?" she asked softly.

Axe-Boy nodded. "He still says he didn't shoot Robin though."

Marian spared him a glance. "Well, he would."

Vaizey rolled his eyes in irritation. "I didn't!"

Man-Mountain's knife cut skin, just a little. Vaizey hissed with annoyance. _Clumsy oaf! _he thought furiously. _And where is Gisborne when you need him?! _

The door swung open with an _un_subtle crash. "He didn't," Guy cut in, a smirk firmly wedged on his lips and a sword firmly extended towards them.

"Gisborne?" Vaizey barked, confused.

"I did."

"Ah."

---------

"Much? Djaq?" The hoarse, half-whispered words could only have come from Robin, and the instant they were uttered the two were by his side.

"Master?" Much asked, leaning over Robin.

"How do you feel?" Djaq interrupted.

Robin seemed strangely lucid. His forehead furrowed slightly. "I can't feel my hands," he commented, calmly, as if he was talking about someone else. "Or my feet. Funny." He twisted to look at Djaq, before returning his gaze to Much. "What's going on?"

Djaq and Much glanced at one another.

Fear was written in their eyes.

---------

Marian's stomach clenched at Gisborne's words; Gisborne's admission of guilt. _"I did." _She saw red and was overcome by a sudden urge to turn and to slaughter the man who had killed her father and attacked her lover.

But then she felt a touch on her arm. It was Allan, oddly enough. '_Wait_' he mouthed to her. '_Not now_'.

She let out a shuddering breath, and the red dimmed from her vision. She turned around to face Gisborne, and couldn't help but smile at the look of shock and horror that flitted across his features. "Marian?" he asked, incredulous.

"Your eyes do not deceive you, Sir Guy," she replied, her tone mocking.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, the tip of his sword wavering downwards, just slightly.

It was enough.

Allan lunged forward, his own blade striking Gisborne's to the ground with a reverberating _clang! _Will joined him moments later, hooking his arm around Guy's neck and pressing his razor-sharp axe-head to the knight's throat.

Marian smirked, and took a step closer to her ex-fiancé. "I am saving Robin Hood's life," she replied softly.

Gisborne's features were abruptly stricken; he understood the subtext. _I am saving Robin from you. You are nothing. _It was a subtle goodbye; a subtle dismissal.

"Now," John said. "Where is the antidote?"

---------

Robin was still on the moss, unmoving. He was calm. Too calm.

Much crouched down beside him, exchanging a brief glance with Djaq on the outlaw's other side. "Master?"

Robin didn't move. "Yes?"

"You are quiet."

"I am tired." Robin's forehead furrowed and his lips thinned, just a little. "So tired." But then the worry was gone and he was smiling. "It's nearly time for me to go," he whispered.

Much froze. "Master?"

Robin rolled his head to face Much. He was still smiling. "I will miss you," he admitted softly.

Much could feel his hands shaking. "Master… _Robin…_"

"This is goodbye."

"Robin, _no_…"

Robin smiled serenely. "Tell Marian I love her," he whispered, so softly.

And then his eyes slid peacefully shut.

"_Robin!" _

---------


	7. Chapter 6: Heartbreak

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

Sorry for the delay - I usually post on Fridays, but this chapter was a bugger to write, and I had to practise muchly for my Grade 6 flute... I hope the chapter's okay... Let me know what you think. -bites lip nervously-

Thanks go to my beloved reviewers: **robin and marion forever** (also, welcome to my C2!), **MontyPythonFan**,** pixiespryte**, **sinematik**, **Kessia Rose**, **Starzangel**, **RixxiSpooks**, **Iris Shadow**, **domslove**, **Mon Bon Amie Beethoven**! (thankie Louise! You and Kitherine... :S), **Kates Master **and **The viEns of hIStorY**! I love you all!

R&R is much loved, and seriously makes me write faster, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_6 - Heartbreak_

The Sheriff was rummaging frantically around in the back of the rudimentary laboratory. He was still in his nightclothes, and Marian could hear his mumbles and curses as he moved from box to box. He _wasn't _going to try anything – but John followed him, just in case.

Gisborne, however, was another matter. He was just stood there, wrists roughly bound behind his back, watching her. Not Allan or Will – his guards – but _Marian. _

It was unnerving her.

She finally sighed and turned to him as Vaizey continued to rummage, and mumble, and curse. "What do you want?" she asked pointedly.

He showed no expression. "I believe I made that clear to you quite a while ago," he replied lowly, voice tense. "You."

Will shifted. "Marian…"

"It's okay, Will," she replied softly. "I don't mind." The corner of her lips twitched upwards, just slightly, in the briefest flash of sadistic cruelty. She was tired, and angry, and grief-stricken. "He's just a _sad _little man, lusting after what he can _never_ have."

Stood beside Gisborne, Allan smirked.

Marian stepped up to Gisborne until they were almost toe-to-toe. She leaned up, closer. Her lips curved in a vengeful, angry smile. "I am _Robin's_," she whispered to him, so close her lips almost brushed his ear. As much as she hated being considered as a man's property, that particular statement was true.

She was Robin's, as long as she lived, and no other's.

She stepped back with a smirk. "Never forget that."

With those words a devastating chill shuddered through her body. And she knew, just _knew, _that Robin was hovering on the brink; so close to falling into the bleak oblivion of death.

She shivered, and her eyes were abruptly filled with tears.

Marian turned to face Vaizey, her features suddenly hard, tears banished. "How long?" she bit off, the inexorable cold turning her limbs to ice. _This is bad, this is bad, this is bad…_

The Sheriff let out a little bark of a laugh. "Here!" He brandished a tiny glass vial in one hand. "One highly-potent antidote, perfect for all your life-threatening poisoned wounds… One drop, and the patient's healed!" He frowned, studied the viscous liquid in his hand and looked up at Marian. "Blast," he mumbled. "I _hate _saving Hood's life…"

John, subtle as ever, snatched the life-giving fluid from Vaizey's hand and handed it to Marian – she cradled it in her hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world; and in some ways, it was.

"We need to get back," she murmured.

John glanced down at her. He could see the naked fear in her eyes, the impending heartbreak. He froze. "Is he…"

"Nearly." She closed her eyes, pained to even admit it. "Very nearly."#

---------

Djaq refused to panic.

Yes, Much was frantically shaking his master's shoulder, screaming incoherently, wild with grief, but she refused to succumb to the same urge to _force _Robin to wake up.

But she wouldn't panic.

Okay, she would. Just a little.

"Damnit Robin, do not dare die!" she yelled, shoving Much unceremoniously out of the way and frantically feeling Robin's neck for the _thud-thud _of a pulse.

And, surprisingly, she found it.

She blinked, startled. "What the…"

"Djaq?" Much asked, his fingers white-knuckled around a handful of Robin's shirt.

"He is alive!" she exclaimed, unable to halt a grin from seizing her lips.

"_Yes!_" Much punched the air. And then frowned. "But he's not moving."

Hovering her hand just above Robin's lips, Djaq bit her lip. Her smile was gone. Wiped away. "He is barely breathing either," she worried.

"But he's not dead?" Much sounded hopeful.

"He is not dead," Djaq confirmed. "But I think this may be worse."

---------

One hostage situation later, the castle gates slammed shut behind the outlaws, and they vanished: thieves in the night. Vaizey, suitably cranky, turned to Gisborne. "You shot Locksley." It was a statement, not a question.

Guy nodded, slowly. "I did."

"_Why _didn't you tell me?"

Guy shrugged. "I am unsure, my lord."

Vaizey shook his head. "You and that _girl…_" He sighed in despair. "Love: such a cancer."

"If you say so, my lord," Gisborne replied emotionlessly.

"Alright then, conversation over…" Vaizey rambled. "_Now go finish the job you started!_"

And Guy smiled.

---------

She knew she was going too fast.

Her horse was sweating beneath her in the warm, clammy summer night. Branches and thorns whipped at her from all sides, trying to drag her from the saddle. She merely hunched down and urged her steed to greater speeds.

_Hold on Robin…_

The others raced around her – John and Allan and Will, supporting her, racing along with her. She knew they could all feel the chill now; the seeping cold that ate at your bones and dulled your senses.

They all loved Robin, in their own way. They would all be broken if they lost him.

_Please hold on…_

They were getting closer – she recognised the forest around her, even in the dark. And the tiny glow up ahead, a fire, lighting a clearing, tinged with the presence of looming death.

_I can't go on without you. _

And she couldn't – she realised that now. It had taken a botched wedding, her father's death and Robin's poisoning for her to realise that.

But now she had.

She dug her heels in, and her horse leaped forward.

---------

The beat of hooves was loud in the calm night, but Djaq didn't look up.

Much was reassured by her assertion that Robin was alive, but she knew that this sleep, this unconsciousness, amounted to the same thing. Their leader was alive, yet dead. Lingering on the plane between.

She felt a tear force its way free from her eye, and swiped it away brusquely. _Not now, _she told herself. _If you despair, everyone will. _

"Djaq?" It was Marian.

She glanced up, but only briefly. "You have it?" she asked, lowly, tersely. No time for pleasantries, no time for manners. She wasn't sure how much time Robin had left in this world.

"I do." Marian produced a small stoppered bottle, holding it between her fingers as if it were made of spider-silk; so precious, so rare. "Here."

Djaq took it from her, and her smile returned, just a little. She was vaguely aware of all the others gathered around, watching intently. Her fingers shook, just slightly, as she began to unstopper the bottle.

Then a thought struck her, and she froze.

_If they are all here… Who is guarding the camp?!_

She jerked up, and her dark eyes alighted on a sickeningly familiar figure, running towards them. "Gisborne!" she yelled.

But too late.

Within seconds they were surrounded; armed and helmeted guards surrounding them in a faceless wall of metal and weapons. Their own weapons were stripped away before they even had a chance to fight; they were forced to their knees, utterly unceremoniously.

Djaq bit her lip and cursed silently. _Damnit let me get to Robin! _she fumed, her gaze flickering worriedly to the outlaw. He was pale, sickly. Her stomach twisted. _He does not have much time left: the death-sleep is fading. _Tears beaded once more, but she forced them down. _He is going to die. _

Gisborne strode over to them. Djaq half-noted the lack of cocky grin on his features – unusual, that. Guy looked down at Robin with something that could only be described as pure _hatred. _"I see my efforts were not entirely in vain," he said lowly, anger and hate threading through his voice.

Djaq twisted, and thick, gauntleted hands came down on her shoulders. "Let me help him!" she insisted, her fingers clenching around the tiny bottle in her hand. "He is going to die!"

Guy looked up at her. "Good."

She was floored. _He actually wants him dead. Not just hurt; dead. Why? _

Guy turned to Marian, once more ignoring Djaq. "But maybe you can save him," he said softly, sinisterly.

_Because she turned him down, _Djaq realised.

Marian said nothing; merely stared up at Gisborne, anger and pain and hatred rolling of her in waves. Djaq could almost taste it.

Gisborne turned away from Marian, and Djaq returned her wary gaze to him. She rolled the little bottle around in her hand, and her gaze darted to Robin. "Who has the antidote?" Guy demanded lowly.

No one answered, unsurprisingly.

Gisborne smirked – an expression full of anger and heartbreak. A single stride took him to Will, and a single stride was all the time he needed to draw a long, razor-sharp knife from a sheath on his hip. With one hand he yanked Scarlett's head back, and the long blade was pressed forcibly against his neck.

Will hissed sharply, and his eyes squeezed shut. A single droplet of crimson blood broke his skin and traced a crimson path down his pale skin.

Gisborne looked up, and eyed the others. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Who has the antidote?" he asked.

_He'll just take it off me, _Djaq reasoned. _It's too valuable for him to destroy. _

"I do," she replied sharply. "I have it!" Gisborne looked up, and grinned. "Let him go!" she demanded.

He did – Will slumped down, one hand to his throat.

And then Gisborne was before Djaq. "Where?" he demanded tensely.

There was silence in the clearing as she extended her closed fist, glass only just gleaming from between her fingers.

Gisborne smiled menacingly, and closed his fingers around hers, and began to squeeze.

Djaq's eyes went wide. _No! Robin! _

There was a sharp crack, and pain flooded through Djaq's hand. She gasped in pain and Guy released her. She opened her hand, the fingers of her other clenched around her wrist. Blood and clear liquid streamed between her fingers, mingled with shards of broken glass.

There was a collective gasp of shock. "No…" Marian moaned, agony and heartbreak and grief mingled in her voice.

_It's gone, _Djaq thought numbly. _The antidote. Destroyed. _

"And now," Gisborne said, a tinge of sadistic pleasure in his voice, "for Hood."

The blade in his hand, still faintly scarlet at the edge from Will's blood, twirled between his fingers in the starlight.

---------


	8. Chapter 7: Teardrops

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter. 

Thanks to my brilliant reviewers: **MontyPythonFan, pixiespryte, domslove, jess, RixxiSpooks, Starzangel, robin and marion forever, The viEns of hIStorY, Too Boring To Think Of A Name **(Thankies Louise! And feel honoured that I haven't deleted your spamming!)**, water raven, funkyfairygirl **and **LialaSword**. You are all fantastic! Even Kitherine, who spams. :D

Enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_7 - Teardrops_

Marian couldn't breathe. Everything had gone so utterly, disastrously wrong. Yesterday her life had been _happy_, not quite peaceful, not by a long shot, but happy all the same.

And now?

Now the man she loved with every aching fibre of her being was dying on the moss before her, and there was _nothing _she could do. Nothing.

Except watch.

And hurt.

The glitter of moonlight on burnished steel drew her gaze, and her attention alighted on the dark figure of Gisborne. He held the slender blade in his hand almost reverently, but his dark eyes were trained on Robin.

_Robin. _Her heart panged.

As she watched, Gisborne smiled. He seemed oblivious to everyone else; for him, the world was he and his rival. No one else mattered. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment," he hissed, his voice tense, soft. "Absolutely _no idea._"

He slammed the blade downwards.

---------

Vaizey was pacing.

He'd sent Gisborne off to complete his task, and he knew the knight would do so – his honour had been besmirched enough lately. But still. The Sheriff of Nottingham couldn't sleep, and he didn't know why.

There was a rustle of fabric in the shadows and a familiar figure coalesced from the darkness. "Vaizey."

"Oh God, it's _you_." The Sheriff was a tad irked. "What do you want _now?_"

"You promised the second half of my fee when Edward was dead. He is dead now."

Vaizey squinted at his elusive acquaintance. "How do you know that?"

"I was there."

The Sheriff started. "You were _there? _Where?"

A faint chuckle – the first trace of emotion the shadow-man had ever shown to Vaizey. "Around. In the shadows, hiding within the spectre of death."

The Sheriff eyed his theatrical associate. "Yes, well…" And then a thought struck him. _It wouldn't _hurt _to give Gisborne a helping hand… _he mused. _I'll think of it as… insurance! _

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second, and then turned to the shadow-man. "I've got another task for you."

The shadow's arms crossed. "The same cost, Sheriff."

Vaizey waved an arm. "Yes, yes, whatever." A dangerous smile spread across his lips. "What do you know about Robin of Locksley?"

"Locksley?"

Vaizey smirked. "Robin Hood?"

---------

"_No!_"

Gisborne jerked up, his blade hovering mere centimetres above Locksley's chest. His gaze shot to Marian; the speaker.

"Don't kill him," she pleaded softly. "Please."

_You have used me enough, _he thought viciously.

Again the blade scythed down, faster than before.

"_I will marry you!_"

He started, astonished. "What?" But he was distracted – it was enough.

John lunged forward, wrenching free from his guards and cannoning into Gisborne, sending the dagger spinning into a glittering arc. It landed point down, embedding in the earth metres away.

For now.

Abruptly, the camp was in uproar. Castle guards shouting and posturing, outlaws breaking out and grabbing weapons. They clustered around Robin; a bristling circle of protection.

John had Gisborne by the neck, one massive hand dwarfing the other man's throat. "Get out of here, or I will snap his neck!" the man-mountain roared, his voice shaking through the trees.

"Do it!" Gisborne croaked, his hands scrabbling at his throat.

Reluctantly, slowly, the armoured guards backed out, a faceless mass of grey metal. John wrenched Gisborne up, the other's feet barely touching the leafy soil. "You _leave_," he hissed. "And you _don't _come back. Understand?"

Gisborne's gaze flicked to Robin, full of hatred.

John shook him, fingers digging into delicate flesh. Guy choked, just a little. "_Understand?_" he spat.

"Yes," Gisborne croaked.

John threw him down to the ground as if he was covered in filth. "Then get out of here," he ordered. And, just for emphasis, thumped the soil with his staff – hard. "_Now._"

Gisborne scrambled away.

---------

Marian couldn't stop the tears. They broke free from her eyes and traced thick, wet paths down her cheeks, dripping from her chin to the leafy floor.

She and Djaq were knelt by Robin—_by his body_. The remains of Vaizey's antidote were trickling off Djaq's bloody fingers, and joining Marian's salty tears on the soil. "Marian, there is nothing we can do," Djaq explained, her voice almost cracking.

Marian shook her head, mute, protesting. "He can't die," she managed through the tears. "He's _Robin. _I can't lose him too."

Djaq reached over, leaning over Robin's pale body, and placed her uninjured hand on Marian's shaking shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she husked.

She closed her eyes, unable to face it anymore. _No please, Robin, wake up, you can't die, please… _Tears slid down her face in fat drops.

Her eyes snapped open. Shaking fingers rose to her face, touching the teardrops that glistened on her cheeks.

_Teardrops._

_Drop. _

A memory, triggered by that single word.

The Sheriff's snarky tones flooded into her memory. _Here! One highly-potent antidote, perfect for all your life-threatening poisoned wounds… One drop, and the patient's healed! _

She smiled.

_One drop. _

Marian grabbed Djaq's still-dripping hand. "We can save him!"

---------

The shadow-man leaned against the bole of an ancient denizen of the forest, listening, and watching.

He'd seen Gisborne's humiliating rout; defeated by a rag-tag band of outlaws. Guy had scrambled past him on his hasty exit from the camp, to go home with his tail tucked between his legs.

The shadow-man shook his head. It had been a long, tiring day for Gisborne, but that didn't mean that man had to let his standards drop. He turned his thoughts away from Gisborne, and back to the little tableau before him.

---------

"How?"

"The Sheriff said that this was a highly potent antidote," Marian explained, cupping a wide leaf in her hand and collecting the remaining smears of blood-tinged antidote. They swirled as she moved, oscillating in the starlight. She blinked away tears. "I'm hoping that he was right."

Djaq shifted slightly, offering more of her sodden hand to the other woman. "And I am hoping the Sheriff was not lying."

Marian barely paused. "So am I."

---------

The arrows weren't poisoned this time – the shadow-man guessed Vaizey had had enough trouble with poison for one week, if the dark-haired woman's healing efforts were correct.

The bow in his hands creaked softly as it was bent, and one of his razor-sharp arrows was fitted into position. He took aim, sighting down the shaft.

---------

Marian barely spared a thought for her own safety. For all she cared there could have been guards by the dozen swarming around her – she wouldn't have moved.

_Please, Robin. Please. _

She handed the leaf in her hands to Djaq. With shaking fingers she lifted Robin's head, settling it carefully onto her knees. "Quick," she warned.

_Hold on. Please. For me. _

She could feel his pulse, hammering away beneath the skin of his neck. His heart was racing, pounding far faster than was normal, one last ditch attempt to save his life – but it was losing. Marian watched as Djaq gently tipped the bloody liquid beneath Robin's pale lips, and dripped the remained onto the open gash that still sliced his thigh open. His pulse didn't change; if anything, it got faster. A tiny sob escaped her lips.

_Please, no, I can't lose you too! _

And then, slowly, the pounding of blood through veins began to slow.

_Yes! Oh God, thank you! Yes! _

Djaq's fingers replaced hers, and a joyous smile spread across the Saracen's lips. "He is alive!"

Marian leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Robin's in agonized relief. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you." Her fingers stroked the side of his face, and she could hear the others around her, _happy. _

"I love you," she whispered to him.

And it might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn the faintest hint of a tiny smile graced his lips.

---------

The shadow-man paused.

His bow lowered, just a fraction, shivering downwards. He watched the dark-haired woman from a distance. _Marian, _his mind supplied. _Her name is Marian. _

_No matter. _

He raised his bow once more, the feathered shaft of the arrow pressed against his cheek. And released.

The arrow cut the night with a shrill hum, whipping through the darkness on wings of death.

---------


	9. Chapter 8: Dawn

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

Not sure about this one. Wanted to get it out for you guys before I went to London, which I'm doing in like 2 hours, so I cut it a bit close:D

Thanks to my reviewers: **The viEns of hIStorY**, **robin and marion forever**, **RixxiSpooks**, **MontyPythonFan**, **pixiespryte**, **domslove**, **Starzangel**, **water raven**, **You Don't Know Who I Am Yet? **(Of course I do! You're Beethoven!), **LialaSword**, **cirana**, **sinematik**, **Chaos-Shadow05**, **Ash Light **and **GinaG Lewis**. You all rock!

R&R sends cookies to the Muse, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_8 - Dawn_

It bit the air with a malicious whine – the exact same sound that had started this whole mess off. Instinct kicked in; Marian was _not _going to let him die again. Within a fraction of a section she was over him, sheltering his unknowing body with her own fragile form.

Something that she well knew he would have yelled at her for, if he'd had been awake.

A shudder of sadness and staunchly repressed grief rippled through her – a bittersweet thrill.

But it was banished as an arrow ripped through the air – thudding into the earth mere centimetres from her fingertips.

There was stunned silence.

"You really should be more alert," an unfamiliar voice rang out into the clearing.

Marian's fingers found Robin's and hers wrapped tightly around his. He didn't stir – but he wasn't slipping. She pulled back, kneeling up, joining the others in confusion.

A shadow moved in the darkness – coming forward.

Marian's whole body was tense. _Not again. Not again. I can't take more pain. Please just… _But she didn't know what she was asking for.

He stepped out from the outskirts, just beyond the reach of the flicking fire. Tall, swathed in black cloth. Like a demon of the night. He didn't speak – just moved silently through the gang.

To Robin.

Marian didn't move – remained kneeling on the group, her fingers tightly intertwined through his.

She loved him. She was _not _letting this man take him from her again.

The shadow-man stood over her. His face was hidden, but she could tell that his attention was fixed on Robin.

Marian felt it when he smiled. "A familiar face in a strange land," his voice whispered out into the still of the night.

Subconsciously, they had all drawn closer. Despite the fact that a stranger had just walked into their camp and was stood over their fallen leader there was a strange calm over them. They formed a loose circle around Robin and Marian, and the shadow-man.

Marian looked closer at him, but could only see black. "You know him."

A nod. His cloak swirled around his ankles in the soft breeze. "Of course." There was a moment of stillness – no one spoke, everyone listened. Finally, there was a soft laugh. "The Sheriff assumed I did not, but he was incorrect." A soft sigh, almost imperceptible. Another sigh of the wind. "The name 'Robin of Locksley' means more to me than most."

His name brought Marian back to the present. "Why are you here?" she asked softly.

He straightened up. "I was sent to complete the task the incompetent Gisborne began."

The spell was broken, and a ripple of consternation flooded through the outlaws. Fear.

"To kill Robin," John rumbled, his hand tightening around the stave in his hand.

The shadow-man didn't look up from his contemplation of Robin. "Yes."

Allan and Will shifted, glancing at one another.

The shadow-man glanced up. "But I won't."

"Why not?" Djaq asked softly. "You are an assassin, no?"

"I suppose I am." The shadow-man glanced down to his feet, almost shrinking from their gazes. Almost _embarrassed. _"I have killed enough lately." There was genuine regret and sorrow in his voice. "I cannot show these feelings around the Sheriff or his men, but—" Marian could almost hear the smile on his lips "—here I can be myself."

"I'm not bein' funny, but you don't even know us," Allan pointed out, sword still in hand. "And we don't know you. How d'you know you can be yourself with us?"

"Robin is here." The shadow-man once more turned his gaze to the pair on the ground. "Where Robin is, you can be yourself."

And all of a sudden, for no apparent reason Marian just _knew. _

This was the man who had killed her father.

And in that same instant he knew that she had realised this. He turned his invisible gaze to her. "I am truly sorry, Lady Marian."

She knew that he spoke the truth too. He only killed because it was a way to live, in a manner of speaking. Just another job – like a carpenter or a butcher or a shepherd.

Just a way to live.

She smiled wanly, keeping her fingers woven through his. "It wasn't you."

She could feel his confusion, even though she could not see his face. "But—"

Marian interrupted him. "You were just the method – the bow that fired the arrow, in a manner of speaking." She shook her head, grief written across her face. "The hands holding the bow…" Her face hardened, just a little. "My father's blood is on the Sheriff's hands."

Djaq moved to stand beside Marian. The Saracen woman lightly touched the other's shoulder – a silent show of comfort and solidarity.

The shadow-man smiled. Or at least Marian thought he did. "You are wise, my lady," he said softly. "Very wise." He leaned forward and pulled the arrow from the ground beside Robin; still unsuspecting in dreamless sleep. He nodded to Marian. "We may meet again; I do not know. The world is wide."

Marian watched him keenly. "It is."

"Stay safe." And then he was gone.

---------

The morning came.

Gisborne and his guards never came back, and the shadow-man never returned either. The atmosphere was tense and few words were exchanged; terse greetings, soft reassurances.

They were waiting for Robin to wake.

And they weren't disappointed.

---------

It was subtle to begin with. The twitch of an eyelid; the slightly wrinkle of a forehead. But she could see it nonetheless. And she tensed.

Much, slumped beside his beloved master, hunk of half-eaten bread in one hand, glanced up at Marian. He frowned – her tension and sudden excited expectation. "What is it?"

"I…" She shook her head, worrying her lip. "I think—"

"What's going on?"

A whisper cut across her, silencing her completely. Not just _any _whisper. _His _whisper.

"Robin!" Much cried, joy and ecstasy and thrumming relief dripping through his voice. "You're awake!"

Robin groaned. "Not so loud," he complained in a hoarse voice. "What happened?"

By this time the rest of the gang were around, and Djaq had to wave them back from grabbing Robin in what would have proved to be a rather large bear hug – all of them, at once. Even though they were forbidden from hugging their leader—Much included—they all wore absolutely massive grins, plastered across their faces.

This whole mess was finally coming to an end.

Robin was alive.

---------

Marian couldn't do anything but watch him. Mere hours before it had seemed impossible that he would survive the night, and that she would be mourning once more.

But now…

He was here. Whole, and admittedly not so healthy. But here, all the same.

Robin looked over at her, after finally going through the others' violent joy and ecstatic welcoming. He didn't smile at her – even though she was joyous, he could read the sorrow in her eyes.

He sat beside her. The rest of the gang understood and withdrew – out of sight.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

She smiled slightly. "Better, now you're back," she admitted. "But…" Her words caught as her father's face flickered in her mind.

Without another word he gathered her to him. Her fingers latched onto his clothes and she held herself close to him.

It was over. _Now _she could weep.

And she did. And he held her close, his face in her hair, cry for her father with her.

---------

It was the first time Vaizey's shadowy acquaintance had made himself known in daylight. The Sheriff watched the shadow-man warily, just itching to call for his guards (or even the thoroughly useless Gisborne) to rip the mask from this man's face and to throw him in the dungeons.

Once again, the dark figure held his hand out. "Payment." One word – Vaizey's companion was more monosyllabic than usual today. He seemed to be thinking.

Vaizey narrowed his eyes at him. "You have killed him, right?" he quizzed, dangling a leather money bag between his fingers.

"Have I ever gone back on my word before?"

"Hmm, no, I suppose." The Sheriff sighed, and tossed the bag to the shadow-man. It clinked as he caught it, and then was silent as it vanished. "But, you know, there is always a first time for everything." He smiled happily. "Evidently not today. Hood. Is. Gone."

Vaizey suddenly got the oddest of feelings. It felt like… like the shadow-man was _smirking _at him.

He blinked and shook his head. _Losing it, _he thought to himself. _The stress of dealing with Hood, and Gisborne, has _finally _got to me. Oh dear. _

The shadow-man nodded. "Farewell, Sheriff," his whisper-soft voice said to the sunlight, and then he was gone.

"Glad to see the back of _him_," the Sheriff mumbled to himself. "Not a nice man."

And, completely ignoring the hypocrisy of his last statement, he wandered away to rejoin castle affairs, a tiny smirk playing at his lips.

He had arrangements to make – for a memorial service, of sorts.

After all, Hood _should_ be remembered.

---------

Will skidded into the camp. "Robin!" he called sharply.

Robin, who was the proud owner of a pounding headache (a little side effect of the antidote that Vaizey had neglected to mention), groaned and gestured at Will to shut up.

Scarlett ignored the other's gestures. "There's something going on in Locksley that you might want to see," he said, half-smiling, half-frowning.

Robin heard the consternation in the younger outlaw's tone. "What is it?" he asked, ignoring his piercing headache – and his physical weakness.

Will bit his lip. "The Sheriff's holding a memorial service," he replied, trying not to smile.

"For who?"

"You."

"Me? I'm not dead!" But a wicked smirk had crossed onto his features. The others gathered around; John, stave in hand; Much, still bouncing at Robin's revival; Allan, who looked at Robin with a doubtful expression; Djaq, smiling; _Marian. _Happier than Will had ever seen her.

But his gaze returned to Robin's impish expression.

_Oh boy, _Will thought. He recognised _that _look.

"Let's go take a look." Robin was grinning. "I can't exactly miss my own memorial service, now can I?"

---------


	10. Chapter 9: Remembrance

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

I like this chapter. Admittedly, not a lot happens, but there's a lot of Sheriff in it. :D Vaizey is fun to write…

Thanks to my reviewers: **MontyPythonFan**, **pixiespryte**, **robinsangel92**, **LialaSword**, **Starzangel**, **The viEns of hIStorY**, **domslove**, **robin and marion forever**, **water raven**, **Ash Light**, **RixxiSpooks**, **I'm Glad You Know Who I Am. **and **Chaos-Shadow05**. You guys are all brilliant!

R&R feeds the Muse, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_9 - Remembrance _

The Sheriff clasped his hands together in mock-prayer. "Robin of Locksley!" he proclaimed, in a loud, overly-theatrical voice. "Beloved of the people, praised by the King!" _And irritating thorn in my side, _he added silently.

He figured it might not be so sensible to say _that _out loud. He was supposed to be praising and flattering the deceased (he cackled mentally) Hood, not _insulting_ him.

But anyway.

"The man who threw off the shackles of authority!" Vaizey continued, still keeping his drama-queen (or drama-Sheriff) voice. "Who robbed from the rich, and gave to the poor!"

The crowd of peasants were beginning to shift. Vaizey suspected boredom (and a short attention span). He hurried up.

"Your _hero!_" he exclaimed. "Your favourite son!"

_I love dramatics, _he mused. _Should have been an actor. _He mused for a moment on the ignominy and penniless-ness of an actor's life. _Or not. _

He smiled and looked out over Hood's peasants – they might be on Gisborne's lands now, but their hearts firmly belonged to Locksley himself. "Is _dead._"

There was dead silence, just for a second.

And then Locksley village _erupted._

_---------_

Much rolled his eyes as the Sheriff made his proclamation, and the villagers exploded into indignant and disbelieving shouts. Robin was shaking with laughter beside him, and Much elbowed his master firmly in the ribs.

Robin didn't stop.

"Hey, Robin," Allan whispered. "Lookin' pretty good for a dead man!"

"Feeling pretty good for it, too!" Robin whispered back, still grinning.

"What are we going to do about it though?" Much asked softly. He glanced between Allan and Robin. "We can't let them think Robin's _dead!_"

Robin nodded. "I know." He unfolded from his crouch. "Follow me," he whispered, "and listen. I have an idea."

Much exchanged a glance with Marian.

They _both _rolled their eyes, before following the others.

_---------_

Vaizey was having fun. He knew he probably should be – he should be conducting this memorial in a _conscientious _and _sympathetic _manner…

But really. Hood had been an _outlaw! _

And a darned annoying one at that.

So, therefore, Vaizey was _allowed _to feel a tad victorious about his death.

"Order!" he yelled. "Calm down!"

After a few encouraging (or not) prods from the prominent guards, the peasants quieted. But Vaizey could still see shellshocked and terrified faces. He smirked.

"Awww," he cooed. "Lost all hope? Your favourite hero gone? Doomed to slavery beneath Gisborne's thumb evermore?"

Guy, stood behind the Sheriff's makeshift podium, was smirking. Vaizey couldn't see him, but he could _feel_ Gisborne's victorious, and mildly evil, smirk. The Sheriff let him smirk. It added a certain _joie de vivre _to his performance, he thought.

_I _so_ should have been an actor. _

Vaizey brought himself back to his original speech. _Where was I? Ah yes, Gisborne's thumb… _"Your little lives wrecked forever, because Hood is _dead_?" He paused. "A clue." A slow smile crept across his lips as he regarded the sullenly glaring peasants. _Boy, is this fun. _He nodded slowly. "Oh yes."

There was silence, except for the gusting of the breeze. And then…

"I beg to differ!" a voice called from the crowd.

Vaizey blinked. "You do?" _That voice is oddly familiar, _he mused. _Sounds like one of Hood's men… Murch or March or Mulch or something like that… _

"I do indeed!" the same voice replied, accompanied by a stirring of the peasants.

Vaizey scanned the crowd for the speaker. He had the oddest feeling that this wasn't good. "Where are you?" he demanded. "Show yourself!"

He was thoroughly ignored as someone _else _spoke up. "Yeah! I'm not bein' funny, but how d'we know Robin's dead? You ain't shown us a body!"

The murmur of discontent that had rippled through at the first voice accompanied this one too, but _louder. _

_Oh great, _the Sheriff thought distractedly.

"And it's not like you've got a good record when it comes to lying," a third voice commented, gruff and deep.

_That sounded like Hood's man-mountain… _"I was _told_ he's dead!" he protested. "By a reliable source!"

"Who was that then?" Voice Number Four—a young voice this time—asked. "Gisborne?" There was an unsubtle snort of laughter which was echoed by the inhabitants of Locksley.

"You would not know something _reliable _if it bit you!" Voice Number Five chimed in. This one was strongly accented – it sounded like a Saracen, and there was a burst of laughter in response.

"Show yourselves! All of you!" Vaizey barked. This wouldn't do – these faceless voices were showing him up quite thoroughly. "Who _are_ you?"

"The question is: who are _you?_" a sixth voice called – one that Vaizey _recognised. _"Are you Vaizey, Sheriff of Nottingham, or a lying, stealing murderer?"

"_Marian?" _Gisborne choked out.

"Marian!" Vaizey confirmed in shock.

"Well," Voice Number Seven answered, "considering he's already tried to have _two_ people killed, and has succeeded in one case… I'd go for the latter."

It wasn't only Vaizey who recognised _that _voice. Cheers erupted in the crowd, and the Sheriff was suitably pole-axed. "_Hood_?" he bawled. Locksley emerged from the crowd, his little gang arrayed behind him – the liar, the carpenter, the man-mountain, the Saracen, the man-servant and the Lady.

The Sheriff gaped.

There was an insufferable smirk on the outlaw's face, and he made a little mock-bow to Vaizey. "The one and only."

Vaizey spluttered. "But…"

Hood grinned. "Beloved of the people," he continued, "praised by the King! Irritating thorn in the Sheriff's side!"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you thought it!" Hood retaliated. He smirked, and adopted his drama-outlaw voice. "The man who threw off the shackles of authority! Who robs from the rich and gives to the poor!"

Vaizey folded his arms. "You can stop copying me now," he ordered.

But Locksley wasn't _quite_ finished. "The _hero_," he completed. "The favourite son."

The one whose name Vaizey still couldn't quite recall—he'd call him Mulch—rolled his eyes. "As if his head wasn't big enough already," the outlaw moaned.

He was ignored.

Vaizey sighed. "Why won't you just stay _dead?_" he moaned.

"Oh, that's not _nice,_" Hood chided. "Is it?"

A rumble of affirmation, from the outlaws and from the villagers.

Vaizey rubbed his temples. _That damned unreliable shadow-person… I _knew _I shouldn't have trusted him! I am surrounded by _idiots!

Locksley ducked towards him. "Got a bit of a headache?" he asked, mock-concern in his voice. "Not feeling so good?"

"Must be his conscience," the Saracen girl barked out.

The scruffy kid with the axes and the liar laughed in tandem – the Saracen girl joined them. "Conscience?" Axe-Boy began.

"Him?" Liar continued.

The three of them glanced at each other. And smirked. "Nah," they completed in union.

Vaizey rolled his eyes, and turned his attention to the unexpected addition to the outlaw band. "Marian?" he asked softly. "What _are _you doing associating with these…" His lip curled as he struggled to think of a suitable description.

"Ruffians?" the man-mountain offered.

"Scoundrels?" the liar presented.

"Vagabonds?" the carpenter suggested.

"Thugs?" the Saracen proffered.

"Brutes?" the man-servant proposed.

"Outlaws?" the Lady propositioned.

Hood smiled as all eyes turned to him. "Heroes?"

There was a heartfelt murmur of approval.

Vaizey got fed up.

He turned to Gisborne, who was _still _gawping at Marian. He rolled his eyes—_why is everyone so incompetent?_—and poked Guy in the shoulder. "Wake up, lover boy," he snapped.

Behind the Sheriff, Hood cleared his throat.

Vaizey glanced back. Robin raised his eyebrows, and glanced down. The Sheriff's gaze followed – Marian's fingers were firmly intertwined with Hood's. And when he said 'firmly'… He meant firmly.

He scratched behind one ear as, once more, the inhabitants of Locksley village had a laugh at his expense.

Well. Technically Gisborne's expense. But whatever

Vaizey turned once more to Guy. "Wake up, _ex_-lover boy."

Hood was smirking at him. Vaizey could just _feel _it. He gritted his teeth.

Gisborne's gaze hardened, and he turned to the Sheriff. "My lord?"

"That's _better,_" Vaizey praised. He jerked an infuriated thumb back over his shoulder at the outlaws – the _smirking _outlaws.

Vaizey was getting tired of people smirking at him.

"Get them!" he snarled.

_---------_


	11. Chapter 10: Lives

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

-author squees- This was _fun _to write, and I am now proud.

Thanks go to my beloved reviewers: **robin and marion forever**, **pixiespryte**, **Ash Light **(now that I've updated, can you?), **RixxiSpooks**, **MontyPythonFan**, **Starzangel**, **My Spoon Is My Friend **(it's a _long _time), **robinsangel92**, **popz-attitude-angel**, **scorpiagirl93**, **Trinilee Greenleaf**, **domslove **and **funkyfairygirl**. You all rock muchly! -hug-

R&R feeds the Muse (and this fic ain't done yet, so I need inspiration!) and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_10 - Lives_

The crowd of villagers closed behind them as they fled from Gisborne and his thugs. Relieved and happy peasants linked arms behind the fleeing outlaws and very-much got in the way of the castle guards. Amidst curses and laughter Robin Hood and his very-merry men escaped – the heroes of the people.

Vaizey, still in place on his makeshift soapbox-cum-podium, stamped his foot like a petulant child, and bawled something unprintable.

---------

Light faded.

A fire crackled lethargically in the centre of their new camp, banishing shadows to lurk and snap at the outskirts of their new (temporary) home. They were seated in a rough circle around the flames, laughing and joking and criticising Much's cooking.

An aura of overwhelming happiness enveloped the camp – they'd led Gisborne and his thugs on a merry jaunt through Sherwood earlier in the day; taunting them with insults from the trees and large amounts of… dubious substances on their head. It had been brilliant, and they were glowing from the memories.

There was a brief and intense scuffle as Much served up slightly-singed rabbit – Will dropped his into his lap as it burned his fingers, Allan dove in and snatched the meat… The usual consequences; ones Allan had fully well seen coming.

But as Marian sat back, leaning comfortably against Robin, his arm around her, a twinge of sorrow swept through her, and the firelight and happiness and teasing all suddenly seemed oppressive.

She tugged gently at Robin's shirt – he glanced down to her. "Can we go?" she asked softly, her features glowing in the light from the blaze.

He smiled at her and nodded.

They slipped off into the night, Robin with a limp that he endeavoured to disguise. The others, engrossed in revelling and egging on Much and Allan's bickering (once again, over conies/rabbits), didn't notice.

---------

Robin led her beyond the ring of light and into the shadows. A fair way from the camp he turned around, a concerned look dancing across his shadowy features. "Marian?"

She offered him a weak smile as illogical tears pricked at her eyes. "I never meant for any of this to happen," she murmured, her voice catching. She swiped uselessly at her eyes, trying to brush the tears away. "But it's all my fault."

"Marian…" Robin sighed and pulled her into his embrace. She clung onto the front of his faded shirt as if letting go would be that last thing she would ever do, and he just held her tighter. "How is any of this your fault?" he asked.

Her forehead was pressed to his shoulder as she spoke, eyes closed. "Gisborne attacked _you _because of _me_," she husked brokenly. "If I'd just done something to stop him none of this would have ever happened."

Robin closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. "That's not true," he countered softly. "This was nobody's fault. _Nobody._" His lips quirked upwards slightly in a tiny, humourless smile. "Gisborne hated me anyway. Not your fault."

She shook her head silently against his chest, determined in her self-blame.

With gentle hands he tipped her head upwards and studied her face. "You are not to blame," he whispered. "You did not mean for any of this to happen. No one can predict the consequences of their actions."

She smiled slightly, as humourless as his had been moments before. "But sometimes it is the unintended consequences that wreak the worst damage," she whispered haltingly. "Because of what _I _did, because of how I played Gisborne…" Her voice crackled and faltered. "You nearly _died._"

Wordlessly Robin took her hand and pressed it to his chest, above the thudding of his heart. "Feel that," he said softly, so soft it was almost a whisper.

Her fingers curled into his shirt as she did – the pulsing of his life beneath her palm.

"I am _alive,_" he whispered. "And I am here."

Their gazes met once more, and she saw the truth of his statement.

"And I will _never_ let you go."

She sobbed, just once, and fell into his open arms.

---------

Vaizey was annoyed.

Very annoyed.

He kicked the table leg angrily and resumed his furious stalk around the room. "How did this _happen?_" he demanded. "_How?_"

Gisborne, stood beside the door, was silent.

Vaizey came to a halt. "We have been show up as utter _fools,_" he bit off, every word filled with loathing. "_Idiots. _In front of the entirety of Locksley village!"

"Yes, my lord," Gisborne replied, monosyllabic.

"Don't you 'yes, my lord' _me_!" Vaizey nearly yelled.

Gisborne returned to stoic silence, and Vaizey glared at him. "Oh, stop _moping_," he snarled. "It was _obvious _that the girl was in love with Hood!"

The spurned knight stiffened and raised his chin in defiance of the Sheriff's words.

"I mean," Vaizey continued, "even that blind old fool who rambles around the _kitchens _could see that she was stringing you along."

Gisborne's back got even straighter.

"It was pretty obvious," Vaizey completed, giving Gisborne one last withering glare before turning away and returning to his pacing. "And I want to know who that blasted shadow-man is!"

Guy nodded sharply. "My lord," he barked, and backed out of the room.

Vaizey glared after him. "I didn't mean _you _go find him," he mused scathingly to the silent room.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't get an answer.

He harrumphed.

---------

Marian twisted her fingers through Robin's scruffy hair as he held her in a crushing embrace. She buried her nose in the side of his neck, breathing in the heady, unique scent that belonged solely to Robin of Locksley.

She squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the tiniest crystal tear to escape, sliding down her soft cheek to rest on his taut skin in a perfectly formed bead of light. Breath fled her, and her body shook.

"I love you," she whispered hoarsely, her tear-strained voice brimming with passion.

He stiffened with surprise. "What?" he murmured softly – she could feel his lips moving barely a hairsbreadth away from the delicate shell of her ear.

Her lips quirked in a tiny smile. "I love you so much that if you leave me I will die," she murmured, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "I always have."

"Marian…"

"It took you nearly dying for me to realise that." Another sob ripped through her. "And I _can't_ do that again."

She felt his arms tighten again around her and he sighed. "You broke my heart before," he murmured.

Marian closed her eyes as memories of that day flooded back – the necklace, the angry Gisborne in her room, and the look of utter agony that had been written across Robin's face as he heard her agree to marry Guy to save her father.

A day that she would happily forget.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in response.

"What you said that day," he continued hesitantly, his voice cracking. "Was it true?"

She knew what he was talking about. Gisborne's throaty voice rushed through her head, filled with anger and frustration and lust – a day from long ago, and a different life.

"_Would you still hesitate if _he _were asking the question?" _

"_I would never marry him. I despise Robin Hood." _

Her heart hurt just thinking about it. She managed a tiny smile; just the barest hint. "You know I lied. I am yours, in every sense – you would merely have to ask."

He was silent, and the whisper of the wind in the trees echoed in Marian's ears. The soft noises of night birds in the trees twisted in with the haunting melodies of the movement of air, and she smiled.

"I am asking now."

She could have sworn her heart stopped beating.

Marian drew back, looking up at his earnest and nervous features – the face she knew and loved with all she was. "Robin?"

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered shakily. "And I know it's not practical, but…"

Her fingers to his lips halted his rambling explanation, and she searched his wide eyes. She had _never _seen Robin of Locksley look this vulnerable before – _ever. _And all because of her. "The King will return to England," she murmured, "and your name will be cleared and your lands returned." She smiled, just a little, in the darkness of the night. "And then, if you still wish it…" The smile widened – she couldn't help it. "Yes. I will marry you."

Beneath her fingers his lips widened in an unmistakeable grin.

No more words were needed, and she replaced her fingers with her lips in a gesture that defied logic and transcended time and space.

---------

This felt _right. _

Marian was in his arms, and her words still spun in his head, and his world thrummed with utter joy.

Or at least until he opened his eyes and saw the shadows swirl into the undeniable shape of a man.

He tensed, his ecstatic light-headedness banished to the corners of his mind for another occasion. "Marian," he said lowly. "I need you to go back to the camp. Rouse the others and get them armed."

She pulled away and frowned at him. "Robin?"

"Danger."

Marian nodded wordlessly and he let her go. She padded back in the direction of the camp – he watched her until she was swallowed by darkness. The outlaw immediately felt cold at her absence, but he forced himself to concentrate. "Where are you?" he spoke into the blackness.

There was a soft laugh, and the shadowy figure he'd seen earlier appeared before him. "Sharp as ever, I see."

That voice…

Robin shifted uneasily. He knew that voice – he was sure of it. But where from?

The shadow-man moved closer. "You look better than you did last I saw you." There was a pause, and a soft chuckle. "If I recall correctly, _then _you were lying unconscious on the ground, with your lovely lady friend defending you to the last."

_Marian. _He couldn't help but smile. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Someone who knows exactly what you dream of every night."

_The Holy Land. _

Blood-soaked carnage.

"You were there." A statement, not a question.

"I was there."

Robin regarded this shadow with a new perspective. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"I followed the same path as yourself. I returned home, and I was appalled at what I saw. So now I work _outside_ the law." There was a pause. "Perhaps in not quite the same manner, as you, but the principle is the same."

Hood was silent for a moment, and then he looked up. "Where did we meet before?"

He could feel the shadow-man's smile. "In another life."

And then he was gone.

---------


	12. Epilogue: Day

Disclaimer etc.: see Prologue/1st chapter.

It's complete! My baby... -pets fic-

Massive thank you to _everyone _who has reviewed, especially this lot for the last chapter: **pixiespryte**, **The Voice of (Twisted) Reason**, **LiliacFleur**, **scorpiagirl93**, **Starzangel**, **domslove**, **water raven**, **robinsangel93**, **robin and marion forever**, **MontyPythonFan**, **ladyofthecelticland**, **The viEns of hIStorY**, **Ash Light **and **RixxiSpooks**! Je vous aime!

And I have a question to ask. Would anyone like to see a sequel? I know that _this _is finished, 'cause the story's done, but I definitely have plot bunnies breeding in the back of my brain about a continuation. And I think many people want to know who the shadow-man is. So yeah. Anyone interested in a sequel?

And a final plea - I know this sounds self-centred and twittish and everything, but I really want to know what you guys though of this. So I would be _so _grateful and would love you forever and ever if everyone who has this on alerts could review - even if it's just one word! I get worried when people read and don't review - am I just marginally okay?

Okay, plea over. R&R is blessed (and remember my question!) and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

_Epilogue - Day_

The sun's rays brushed the towering denizens of Sherwood in soft golden light. It was morning once more; a pleasant one at that. Birds twittered softly in the leafy boughs with nary a care, and the undergrowth rustled contentedly in the caressing breeze.

All was calm. All was peaceful.

Well. Ish.

---------

Much sat bolt upright, spluttering. He was quite thoroughly drenched, from head to foot, in a combination of water, mud and what looked suspiciously like pond scum. He squealed—actually _squealed_—and wiped the filth delicately from his face. And looked up.

Right into Allan's grinning face.

Much's features went purple. "_ALLAN!_" he shrieked.

At the look of utter _fury _directed at him Allan quailed slightly. "Whoops."

And he ran.

Much gave chase, waving a stick and yelling incoherently.

Djaq, on the other side of the clearing a few feet away from the still-slumbering John, merely readjusted her makeshift pillow and went back to sleep. It had been a… difficult few days.

---------

The funeral gathering, draped in black, was an odd sight in the cheerful sunlight. They gathered in a loose circle around the freshly-dug and freshly-filled-in grave, the priest at the head. There was a veneer of sorrow over the whole scene, one that Marian didn't miss.

She stood at the fringes of the trees, a little way away from the mournful sight, leaning with her back to the bole of a grandiose monarch of the woods.

Tears glistened on her pale cheeks, but she didn't sob. She'd sobbed already – in Robin's arms. She'd come to terms with her loss – with her _father's _loss.

Now all she needed was to say goodbye.

The priest said a few final words, inaudible to her, and the party slowly dispersed, black specks meandering aimlessly in the green graveyard, words of comfort and solace exchanged and repeated, over and over.

Marian was silent. She couldn't move; frozen to the spot. How long she was there, motionless and weeping soundlessly, she didn't know.

It was when all the mourners had left that she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "How are you?" Robin asked softly.

She smiled slightly, just a tiny upward-quirk of her lips. "I am alright," she replied.

"You just watched your father's burial," Robin countered gently. "You are _not _alright."

"You are right," she admitted, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. "I am not. But I will be."

He squeezed her shoulder and pulled her into his arms. "You will be," he agreed softly, a whisper on the breeze.

There was silence, for a brief moment.

"You don't have to do this," he said softly.

She looked up at him questioningly.

"Stay in the forest."

She smiled fully this time. "Where would you suggest I go?" she asked teasingly. "Back to Gisborne?"

He stiffened and held her tighter. "_No_," he bit off.

She smiled. "My decision is made," she replied softly. "There is no turning back now."

He held her gaze, and then smiled. "For both of us," he agreed.

"Good." Marian smiled.

He released her and began to rummage in his pocket. "In that case…"

She frowned. "Robin?"

The scruffy man before her grinned and slowly pulled a familiar item from his pocket – a coarse thread with a tag that was known throughout Nottingham. He pressed it into her hand. "For you."

She couldn't speak.

"It won't be easy," he warned. "Sherwood is no Knighton Hall—"

"But it's home," she interrupted.

He smiled slowly. "Yes."

With careful deliberation she tugged the thread over her head and tucked the dangling tag inside her shirt. She glanced up at Robin, as if for confirmation. He nodded, and smiled.

She, on the other hand, smirked devilishly. "I've got an idea…"

He laughed as she explained. "I think you might be good at this outlaw business!" he praised.

She mock-curtseyed. "Thank-you, my lord."

He shook his head and linked his hand with hers. With a smile and a kiss the two of them vanished back into the forest to find the others. Their unrestrained and joyful laughter trailed behind them, bathing the forest in its bright tones.

---------

The shadow-man had been watching them for a while.

He wasn't entirely sure why, but he'd taken a shine to this utterly hapless pair, and their friends. They were a motley bunch—Saracens and liars and giants—but they were something different, and he liked that.

He'd seen Robin's memories in the night; dreams that flooded back and took over the lord-turned-outlaw – he'd _been _there. He'd seen Marian gaze towards the forest, eyes full of hope and longing and vibrant love – he'd felt those same overpowering emotions.

A long time ago. In a different world.

_Before_ he came across this pair.

He'd been watching them for a long time before he had been paid to kill her father – an action he at once regretted and did not. And he'd watch them for a quite a while longer; them _and _their intriguing friends.

He always had been a sucker for love and loyalty.

The shadow-man smiled, beneath his black mask, and vanished.

--end--


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